


Angel

by s4turn



Category: Barry (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Barry, Biting, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fuck fuches all my homies hate fuches, Hand Jobs, Idiots in Love, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Season 1, barry is a bitchboy, both of them have trauma, cute dates, so is hank tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:46:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26720017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s4turn/pseuds/s4turn
Summary: Barry goes out and gets frozen yogurt and accidentally runs into everyone’s favorite twink mobster
Relationships: Barry Berkman/NoHo Hank
Comments: 9
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

Barry was tired of the fucking motel room. He considered himself to be very amenable when it came to housing, but something about the shared space was agitating to a small part of his brain that he had not heard from before.

Due to this resounding stress, he’d found himself spending nearly all of his free time outside. He’d gone on a few walks in a forest by himself during the afternoons, under the shelter and shade of the trees. He learned during these outings that he liked having someone to share the experience with. There was nobody with him that he could idly chat with. No one to point out any woodland animals to, or to share his semi-useful survival knowledge with. 

Part of him was itching to call Sally. He’d come to accept the ending of any non-platonic involvement between the two of them, but she was still the best friend he had. Because of this, he opted to give her the space she needed, not wanting to irritate the already sensitive remnants of companionship between them. 

And so he spent his days alone, save for the few times he would run into Chris or someone from class. Although he wasn’t the most fond of small-talk, he would indulge his friends for whatever amount of time felt necessary before exchanging polite goodbyes and going their separate ways.

On this particular day, he’d felt quite content. He’d received his cash from the last job and decided to treat himself a bit. The day was spent roaming through a mall, looking at nice things and wondering what it would be like to be the kind of person who had such domestic belongings. He proudly bought himself a pack of new socks and a plain black hoodie. He didn’t recognize the brand of the sweatshirt, but it seemed nice enough. On his drive back to the motel that evening, he saw a frozen yogurt shop and decided to spoil himself a little more.

“Barry!” A voice called out cheerfully. Barry grew still in front of the buzzing machine, his hand holding an empty cup underneath the dispenser that would give him a swirl of caramel and vanilla. “Barry, it is me, Hank!” Barry turned his head to the right and saw the man himself cradling a cup with an absurd overabundance of colorful toppings. He was genuinely beaming toward Barry, and Barry couldn’t help but to return a small grin.  
  


“Is very funny to run into you here, yes?” He chirped. Barry met his eyes momentarily and offered a small nod. He brought his eyes back up to Hank’s, intending to ease the awkwardness with eye contact. 

His gaze faltered when he noticed that Hank’s eyes were scanning his entire body casually, as though he greeted every person with a quick examination. Did he? Barry suppressed a shudder that he absolutely refused to acknowledge the source of.

Finally Hank’s eyes met his, and Barry looked at him blankly, not knowing what to say.

“You want to sit with me? The owner of the store is super very nice, has a lovely table outside and everything!” Hank implored in a manner that somehow came across as both polite and giddy at the same time.

“Um, sure, yeah.” Barry answered.

“Amazing! You continue getting frozen yogurt, I will sit outside at table.” And with that, the human version of the 100 emoji was on his way outside. Barry blinked. That interaction felt surreal. He shrugged and resumed getting his dessert. He tossed on a modest amount of pretzels and graham cracker dust before cashing out.

Hank tucked his phone into a pocket of his black shorts when Barry opened the door. He greeted him with a smile before directing the taller man to a table near the storefront, being sure to pull out a chair for him and everything. He sat across from them and the two ate their frozen yogurt and engaged in some rather trivial conversation. It was more pleasant than Barry had expected it to be, and the two of them found themselves continuing to talk even after they’d finished eating.

Barry learned that Hank had wanted to move to America his whole life.

“It is dream-land here! People are much nicer than Chechnya, and we always get sun here at California.” He says with lots of elation in his voice. Barry decides not to rain on his parade by arguing his praise of America. _He probably has his reasons for leaving Chechnya anyways._ He thought to himself.   
  
“You have been out of America, yes?” Hank inquired.

“Uh, yeah,” Barry responded, unconsciously beginning to tap his finger on the metal of the outdoor table. “Yeah, I’ve been around a bit. Saw a lot of places in Afghanistan.” He averts his eyes. His knee starts shaking and it makes the table wiggle ever-so-slightly.

“Ah.” Hank replied, sensing the discomfort in his companion. He changed the subject without subtlety, and Barry was quite grateful for that. “Well, I hear Amsterdam is nice. Lots of art and such.” Barry nodded. “Do you like art, Barry?” Hank wondered aloud.

“I dunno. I don’t really. Go out of my way to look at art, y’know?” He told Hank, whose hairless brows raised in an expression of surprise and thrill. 

“You should take the time to do that! Just chill, enjoy the nicest things of life.” He declared.

“You mean nicer?”

Hank waved the correction away. “No matter. Is beside the point. Would you like to visit a art museum with me sometime? There’s this one near here, it is called Museum for Contemplative Art or something. Very nice pieces there.” Hank found that he was chattering about the museum before he could stop himself.

“Why not?” Barry grinned widely, and unbeknownst to him, Hank’s stomach did a flip at the sight of it.

“Is next Sunday okay for you?” Hank asked with the same pep in his voice that he always had.

“Uh, yeah, it should be. Text me the details?” Barry said, unable to control his smile but managing to tone it down to the point where it looked less blatantly fond.

“Of course! I’ve gotta bounce, but I will text you.” Hank got up and threw his empty cup into the garbage can near them. Barry stood up too, his arms awkwardly hanging at his sides as his brain raced to find something to say. “It was good to see you, Barry.” Hank told him with a solemn smile. 

“You too, Hank.” He offered his hand forward for Hank to shake, but the shorter man pulled him into a very brief hug before turning to walk away.

“Hasta la vista!” He called out to Barry, then begins walking to his car, wherever it is.

 _English people are weird,_ Barry thought leisurely.

-

When Barry returned to the motel, he wore a smile that was apparently wide enough for Fuches to question.

“You hangin’ out with that Sally girl again?” He asked with the distinct sound of half-interest in the subject.

“Nope.” Barry offered no more information. He was delighted in _the_ most juvenile way to have a secret from Fuches. Even if it was one that didn’t matter. It gave him a sense of freedom. 

That night he began searching for apartments online while waiting for a message from Hank. He felt at ease.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck Fuches that’s all ❤️


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go to a museum together and Hank displays his godlike musical skills

Barry opened his phone to another message from Hank.

**Hank:** _Hello Barry!_

******Barry:** _Hey_

**Hank:** _Are you almost ready for me to pick you up?? Museum is actually about Contemporary arts and not Contemplative but it will be just as nice!_

**Barry:** _Sure, anytime is fine with me_

**Hank:** 👍👍👍 _Will be over at 3_

Barry looked at the messages between the two of them warmly. Hank was incredibly outlandish, especially for a member of the Chechen mafia, but this unconventional behavior had Barry smiling a lot more often. He kind of felt bad for shooting him.

Barry wondered why Hank was so particularly interested in him. The thought stuck in his brain and he spent his shower and his time getting dressed passively thinking about where this could be going. He tried to shake the thoughts off only to find himself fully contemplating his feelings toward Hank.

 _Hank,_ of all people. As much as he'd have liked to ignore whatever affection he's growing for the man, he couldn't do that. Every time he did that he's made it worse. 

_Okay, I might be into him. But it's not a big deal. I don't need to make a big deal out of it. We can just hang out._

He forced this to the back burner when he heard a knock from the door of his and Fuches's room. He opened it to see Hank standing in front of him with a look of mild anticipation.

"You ready for contemporary arts?" He asked Barry.

"Uh, yeah. I thought you were gonna text me when you got here." Barry said. Hank's smile turned sheepish and he rubbed his neck a bit awkwardly 

"Uh, figured I would come up here. Is that okay?" Barry started to nod before realizing something.

"Wait, I never told you what room number we're in!" He exclaimed, feeling mildly concerned for his physical safety.

Hank laughed quietly. "Oh come on man, I'm in big mob, we know everything!"

Barry rolled his eyes. "Don't do that. Please." He said. The two of them made their way to Hank's black car. Barry got into the the passenger seat. The vehicle was as comfortable as it was showy. Hank turned on the radio and drove cheerily. Barry didn't recognize most of the music, but Hank was having a hell of a time singing along unabashedly, leaving out some words because of his accent.

Barry's eyes widened when Hank started singing along to a song that he recognized from online. _What the fuck-_

"I said certified freak, seven days a weak, wet-ass pussy, make that pull-out game weak, whoo!"

Barry was laughing uncontrollably, and Hank turned up the music and started singing louder, a cocky smile on his face when he made brief eye contact with Barry, who was currently experiencing all five stages of grief at the same time.

"Talk your shit, bite your lip, ask for car while you ride that dick," Hank was almost yelling at this point. "You really ain't never gotta fuck him for a thang, he already made his mind up 'fore he came,"

 _Jesus Christ he knows every word,_ Barry laughed even harder

Barry was cackling so hard that tears pricked at his eyes as they reached the museum parking lot. Hank woefully turned the music off when he parked. The walk to the entrance was spent with playful teasing between the two of them.

"In all honesty that was quite impressive." He told Hank, who grinned proudly.

"I know."

Barry rolled his eyes and playfully bumped into Hank. The shorter man stumbled for a second before smacking Barry's chest with a mischievous light in his eyes. They were acting like a couple of third-graders, but it was too fun to care. They straightened themselves out a bit before walking into the museum. They were greeted with a cool breeze and a pleasant, clean smell.

"Where do you want to go first?" Hank asked Barry, who shrugged.

"I don't know what or where anything is, so that's on you." He stated, eyeing Hank expectantly.

Hank gave a mock-exasperated sigh. "I guess I have to do _everything,_ " he chided, "No help from Mr. Berkman..."

"That is completely true." Barry said. Hank led him first to his favorite piece. Barry wondered why they didn't just start at the nearest exhibit, but shrugged the thought off when he recalled that he _did_ tell Hank to lead the way.

In front of them was a very large painting. Hanks stared at it with adoring eyes while Barry read the plaque. The painting was called 'The New World: Twins' and was done by someone named Thomas Lawson. It depicted to women facing away from the viewer, painted against a thrillingly red background. The woman on the right was clad in lime green clothing with matching hair, while the one on the left wore a light dress with black stripes. Partially covering, but in a way connecting them, was an unidentifiable black form. It was shapeless and nameless, but it was visually pleasing.

"What is it about this one you like so much?" Barry turned to Hank to ask him the question. Hank shrugged with a smile.

"The colors, I suppose. It looks very lovely. Makes me happy to look at it."

Barry nodded in agreement. Hank's change in behavior from the car to that moment gave Barry mental whiplash, but he was happy to be around Hank whether he was being overly excited or weirdly solemn

The two of them strolled through the museum, observing and commenting on different pieces. Some of them were boring to Barry, but he took a liking to a lot of the sculptures. His mind felt satisfactorily occupied when regarding their three-dimensional forms.

It felt like they had been drifting through the museum forever when Hank mentioned that they should leave. Barry checked his phone. 6:37 PM. He sighed, not wanting to return to his motel. 

Hank caught onto this. Rather than bringing it up directly he suggested they get some food. Barry was reluctant to have money spent on him.

"My friend, I am like, having so much money! There's a reason I am in this business!" Barry weighed out his options quickly before agreeing. Hank squealed and clapped his hands together happily, forcing a smile out of Barry. 

Hank drove the two of them to a restaurant that was nice enough, but not so nice that they couldn't get seated. Hank received a few not-so-subtle once-overs from other customers, but the staff was polite and professional.

"It is tattoos and big muscles that make everyone stare," He leaned in and whispered matter-of-factly. Barry smirked down at Hank, who grinned and wiggled his brows. 

Their talk varied from movies to phobias to favorite foods while they waited for their meals. When they got their food they ate while debating over their favorite animals.

"How can you think wolf is better than red panda!" Hank exclaimed, almost seeming genuinely offended.

"Dude, wolves are sick! They look cool and they're the reason we have modern dogs." Barry retorted, insistent on his point.

"Yes, but red pandas!" Hank objected. Barry waited for him to say more, but apparently that was the whole rebuttal. His eyebrows quirked up.

"Damn, I never thought about it that way," He said, feigning contemplation as he spoke.

Hank rolled his eyes. "Fuck you, wolf is basic as fuck." He responded, and that was the conclusion of that topic. 

The Monte Cristo sandwich Barry had ordered was enjoyable and nostalgic of the ones his often-absent father used to make. Hank seemed to like his salad that Barry couldn't pronounce the name of. In addition to their meals, Hank ordered a bottle of wine to share. It was, admittedly, an over-indulgence on both their parts. By the time Hank had began paying for it, both men were considerably inebriated. Not shitfaced by any means, but certainly on the drunker end of tipsy. 

As they were making their way out of the restaurant, Hank grabbed Barry's shoulders and launched himself onto his back unannounced. Barry momentarily tottered before regaining his footing. He couldn't see Hank's face, but he knew it had a shit-eating grin plastered on it. Barry slipped his arms behind Hank's legs to support him, and allowed Hank to adjust his grip before continuing to walk.

"You're like, so fucking strong! Like Superman!" Hank effused, his mouth inches away from Barry's ear, sending tingles up the taller man's spine. Barry reveled in the way Hank's accent thickened with his drunkenness, smiling like an idiot as he carried the man out onto the sidewalk on his back

"Hank, we're not driving, right?" Barry asked, noticing a bit of a slur in his own voice.

"Yebat' nyet! Am drunk, my friend, drunk people are not allowed to drive!" Hank verified. "Is chilly out here. Would've not worn shorts if I knew we were out so late." Hank complained quietly, pressing his face gently into the back of Barry's neck, seeking warmth. Barry was glad Hank couldn't see him, because he was blushing like a high schooler.

Barry stumbled around for a couple minutes before finding a bench at a park to set Hank down on. He went to sit by him. As soon as he was in place on the bench, Hank scooted closer, so that their arms were brushing together. Barry's mind was amazingly empty as he enjoyed the presence of a friend.

"We must not drink so much of the wine next time, milyy chelovek," Hank murmured to Barry. Barry's smile grew wider at the mention of a 'next time'. "Now I must pick up car tomorrow, and probably have ticket, too. 

"Mmh. Should we get an Uber?" Barry asked. Hank nodded but made no further movement besides letting his head fall lazily onto Barry's shoulder. 

"I had good time today, Barry." Hank said, not trying to prompt any conversation, just saying the first thing that came to mind.

"I did too." Barry felt his heart plunge as he said the words, even though this conversation- this whole evening- was insignificant with the haze of alcohol.

Barry contacted a driver and was given five minutes to wait, during which he enjoyed sharing a space with his friend and listened to him chatter away, frequently slipping into Russian.

It wasn't long before a car pulled up to the sidewalk in front of them. The two men got up and into the back of the vehicle, slumping comfortably into the seats. Neither talked during the ride. It was ten minutes before they reached the address near the stash house, which Hank had given the driver to avoid association as much as he could while being a burly Russian man with tattoos.

"C'mere," He told Barry, guiding his chin up with nimble fingers. Barry's heart did a backflip as Hank pressed a brief kiss to one cheek, then the other. Barry's wide eyes contained nothing but adoration when he looked at the man. "You text me when you get home, okay?" Barry nodded, lips slightly parted but not speaking. Hank looked at the driver. "Mr. Driver. Do not crash the car. I would be very angry. Give you very low rating." Hank is gone after that, and Barry's head remains blissfully empty on the drive to the motel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hank speaking Russian >>>


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry takes Hank on a hike

Barry texted Hank when he returned to the motel. He collapsed into his bed with a seemingly permanent smile stuck to his face, clutching his phone. 

"The fuck's going on with you?" Fuches shuffled to the cooler that he must've recently filled with beers. Barry didn't bother answering. Fuches didn't necessarily care what Barry had going on, but it seemed that Barry's nerve to ignore him had left him in a state of irritability. 

"What the fuck is going on with you?" Fuches repeated. This time Barry turned around in bed to face the side of the room that Fuches was standing on. He probably looked incredibly out-of-place, a drunken, 6'1" man holding a phone to his chest on a bed that was very clearly too small for him.

"Nothing. I was just. Hanging out with a friend." He answered. His smile faltered but did not vanish. Fuches grunted in a wordless acknowledgement of Barry's response. 

"You're gonna kill that Taylor guy, right?" Fuches urged. Barry's ears started ringing. He shot Fuches a patronizing thumbs-up without saying anything, and shoved his face into his pillow. He didn't want to mess up such a lovely night with such ugly thoughts. He heard Fuches mutter some obscenity, but he didn't listen.

Barry's phone dinged and he turned around once again, happy to replace his one-sided company with Fuches with that of Hank.

**Hank:** _I had perfect time today. Thank you for spending it with me ☺️☺️_

**Barry:** _It was really cool_

**Barry:** _Looking forward to the next time we can hang out_

Barry's heart skipped a beat when his phone chimed. He sighed, knowing that he was in too deep but not wanting to do anything to change it.

**Hank:** _Was hoping you would say that! You get to pick next adventure, okay?_

**Barry:** _That sounds good to me_

**Hank:** _Perfect. You have good night. Sweet dreams 😴😴😴_

**Barry:** _Sleep well Hank_

-

A few days later Barry finds himself smirking at a message from Hank.

**Hank:** _Barry! You still have not told me where you are taking me today!_

**Barry:** _You'll be fine_

**Barry:** _It'll be fun :-)_

**Hank:** _Barry that is not even real emoji_

**Hank:** _You need to use them! They are fun and very nice too! 😍😍_

**Barry:** _There's nothing wrong with :-) !_

**Hank: 🤷♂️**

**Barry:**... _Okay anyways I'll pick you up at noon. Is that good?_

**Hank:** _Wonderful 😁_ _  
_

**Barry:** _Dress for the outdoors_

**Hank:** _Yessir 🙌🍃_ **  
**

Barry swore if it was anyone else he would find it annoying, but Hank was unrivaled in any competition for Barry's affection. That thought made him recollect the two soft kisses given to his shy face the other night. His cheeks flushed red. That had been wonderful, but what if Hank had meant it in a friendly manner? Barry had fervidly Googled forms of affection and greetings in Chechnya, but he hadn't found anything relevant. Rather than torture himself over it any longer, he decided to get ready for the day's... friend-date? Hang-out? Whatever it fucking was, he was showering first.  
  


-  
  


Barry pulled up to the stash house right at noon. It was obvious that someone was moving in, but he figured that no random passerby would suspect it to be the Chechen mob. He texted Hank to let him know he had arrived, and just moments later Hank came bounding out the front door.   
  


He wore a pair of light gray short running shorts that Barry was 90% sure were from the women's section. Not that he minded at all. He paired those with a form-fitting black t-shirt and an unzipped color-block windbreaker with white shoulders and a light blue torso. His hiking boots were a nice shade of tan. Barry sighed. Of course Hank had to make a hike look sexy.  
  


"Barry! It is so good to see you, it feels like it has been ages!" Hank got into the car and greeted him with a quick kiss on the cheek. Barry smiled stupidly as his ears turned pink.

"Hi," he said, not knowing anything else to say. Hank seemed content with his response anyways.

"So this is surprise location, yes? Does this mean you blindfold me for the drive?" Hank inquired. Barry thought he was joking at first, but Hank's face showed no sign of humor.

"Um. No? We can just drive normally I think." Barry replied. Hank nodded happily. 

The brown-haired man pulled out of the driveway and began the short drive to his favorite trail.  
It didn't take long for them to arrive, and when they did Hank looked at his surroundings joyfully. Barry felt a twinge of affection in his chest. Tall trees of several kinds enwreathed them. Foliage covered the ground, apart from the paths that were clearly used often enough to stay barren.

"It is so pretty here!" Hank exclaimed. Barry murmured his agreement. He grabbed his bag from the back of the car and locked it before walking to stand near Hank, who was still plenty busy admiring his surroundings. 

"Are you ready?" He asked the shorter man. He felt the slightest bit audacious, and put a gentle but guiding hand on the small of Hank's back. Hank, for once, was flustered. Rather than sputtering out any words, he simply nodded. Barry ignored the soft rosiness in Hank's cheeks as he removed his hand and started walking toward a trail. It only took Hank a split-second to recover, and then he was quickly walking beside his friend. 

There was a buzzing sound of the bugs surrounding them, an almost-comforting white noise. Birds trilled everywhere, remaining unseen for the time being. The sunlight that filtered through the various leaves and branches above them was mottled and beautiful casting a pleasantly soft glow on the two men.

"Do we have a specific destination? Or is that still surprise?" Hank piped up after a few minutes of quietly following Barry's lead.

"It's a surprise." Barry grinned at the pout Hank wore.

"What if I don't like surprises?" He complained.

"It'll be worth it," Barry promised. "Okay?"

Hank sighed, making sure to exaggerate the sound of annoyance. 

"This better be _very_ worth it." Hank concludes.

The two of them continue walking, quietly losing track of time and appreciating their surroundings. Every so often Hank would excitedly point a bird out to Barry and ask what kind it was, but Barry didn't know shit about birds.

They'd almost reached Barry's top-secret destination when a high-pitched scream from Hank scared the living fuck out of him. He turned to Hank, who was already firmly gripping his arm with one hand and pointing at the ground with the other.

"Is a fucking snake!" He cried out. Barry rolled his eyes, having thought Hank had been hurt. He looked a little closer at the snake. It was a garter snake. He chuckled lightly and crouched down. Hank let go of his arm, unwilling to get any closer to the thing. Barry picked the creature up fondly, and Hank just about passed out. The tall man held the snake for just a moment, then set it on the ground to the side, watching it writhe away.

"I didn't know you were _that_ afraid of snakes," Barry chided good-naturedly, looking up at Hank from his low spot on the ground.

"Who is not afraid of them? They are gross. Slithery and weird." He made a disgusted face.

Barry laughed quietly. Hank offered him his left hand, presumably to help him up. Barry went to grab it with his own left hand the way one does when accepting a lift. Hank swatted the hand away, giggling.

"You used wrong hand, silly!" He beamed at Barry, who looked even more confused than usual, but accepted Hank's hand in his right one anyways. It was an awkward angle to be raised from, but when he was standing, the only movement Hank's hand made was interlocking their fingers. Barry's heart skipped a beat but he continued walking again, this time hand-in-hand with the dumbass he found himself so insanely captivated by. 

It was a long time before they reached the spot. Before it was in sight, Hank's attention had been seized by the sound of water. He gave Barry a questioning look, and Barry just smiled. 

Hank gave him a smug look that could only mean mischief. Upon that, he let go of Barry's hand and bolted off in the direction of the sound.

"Wait up fucko!" Barry thundered, and took off after him. Hank beat him to the source of the noise, and was staring at it with hands on his hips by the time Barry caught up. He gaped at the reflective waterfall that was steaming down from rocks that were outstandingly tall. 

"How the fuck did you run that fast?" Barry panted, feeling spent after a semi-short period of sprinting.

"I never skip leg day. That is secret to running." Hank testified proudly. "This is wonderful surprise, you know. Am glad you brought me here, even though I almost stepped on a fucking hell-worm."

"I'm glad you like it." Barry said, making eye contact with his friend that made his gut burn.

"Can we swim here? Is very warm out today. Lovely weather, honestly." Hank suggested.

Barry slipped his backpack off his shoulders and retrieved two rolled-up towels from inside it. Hank grinned widely and clasped his hands together in excitement. He tossed a towel to Hank. The bald man draped it over some rocks in the sun, near the water but not close enough to get wet. He then made quick work of undressing. Barry blinked and looked down, reminding himself that it wasn't an invitation to eyeball him. 

Averting his gaze, he went about removing his shoes and socks, then his shorts and shirt, leaving his boxer shorts on. He put his towel by Hank's, along with his discarded clothing and bag. When he got up and turned around, he caught Hank's eyes raking his body. He felt self-conscious, but with a dash of keenness. Hank met his eyes with the most indelicate look on his face. Barry shivered and looked down.

Hank's underwear were a pair of perfectly-fitting red briefs. His eyes greedily devoured the sight before he squeezed his eyes shut, cursing himself and feeling guilty for giving an unwanted gaze.

"Barry." The words sounded closer to him than Hank was when Barry closed his eyes. He opened them to see Hank standing an arm's-length away. His deep brown eyes almost seemed darker. "You are allowed to look." His voice was a bit deeper than usual, and quieter. "I like being admired."

As soon as the words were said, Barry was thirstily lapping up the view in front of him, praying to God he didn't look as witless as he felt. The fabric of Hank's underwear gripped his skin generously, and the curves of his ass went straight to Barry's dick. He brought his eyes back up to Hank's. The look on his face was so unlike his usual fun-loving manner. If the context had been any different, his expression would've been threatening.

Barry shocked himself by making the first move. He stepped forward and grabbed each side of Hank's face. He pressed their foreheads together, eyes shut and lips parted. Then he moved so that his mouth was right by Hank's ear. 

"You," he growled, "Are so fucking perfect." He felt Hank shiver, the first sign of vulnerability he had shown since the encounter had began.

"Krasivaya." He whispered in response.

Barry moved his hands from Hank's face and slid them down his sides, letting them rest on his hips. Hank's arms moved to drape over his shoulders, as though they'd done this a hundred times before. 

A moment of eye contact set Hank off. He leaned in and pressed his parted lips against Barry's. The kiss was open-mouthed and needy from the start. Barry bit down on Hank's bottom lip, drawing a whimper out of the man's throat. He wanted to hear more of that. He moved his mouth downwards. Hank only had a moment to be disappointed before Barry was latched to his throat. His breath stuttered as Barry sucked on the skin of his neck hungrily. 

"Fuck- Barry- more teeth," he whined, and let out a lewd moan when Barry bit down on him so deliciously. A grunt escaped his throat when Barry gripped his ass with phenomenal force. He unintentionally bucked his hips forward, inadvertently seeking friction. Barry's mouth detached from his neck to kiss him again, strong and steady this time. Hank pulled back and gasped when Barry hoisted him up by his thighs. He wrapped his legs around the taller man's waist and used as much restraint as possible to keep from jerking forward when Barry bit into his neck mercilessly. Barry hummed, entertained at the noises he was able to withdraw from Hank.

"Agh! Fuck- _Snova-"_ He choked out. Barry released Hank's neck to look over his shoulder as he turned around to lie him down as gently as possible onto the towel. Once they were on the ground, Hank took over, flipping Barry onto his back and climbing on top of him to straddle his hips. He kissed into Barry's mouth, pressing their tongues against each other. He pulled away and lifted himself so that he was sat on top of Barry, looking down at his flustered face.

"Mmh. You are so pretty like this." He murmured to the man beneath him. Even while he was laid down underneath Hank, Barry was groping Hank's ass and thighs in the most heavenly way. "Let's get these off, yes?" He suggested, snapping the waistband of Barry's boxers with a finger. Barry nodded wordlessly.

Hank scooted backwards a bit as he pulled Barry's underwear down his thighs, to his knees. Barry was pink and painfully hard, and Hank drank in the sight gluttonously. He held eye contact with Barry, his eyes dark with desire.

"You look so beautiful." He told Barry. "Can I touch you?" Barry nodded. "Can I use my mouth?" He nodded again. Hank smiled and dipped down to bite Barry's inner thighs softly, testing his sensitivity. Almost at once a hand gripped the back of his head and he smirked to himself. Not wasting any more time, he licked up Barry's shaft, watching what he was doing with hooded eyelids. When he reached the top he put his head in his mouth, swirling his tongue over Barry's already-wet slit. He then hollowed out his cheeks and bobbed his head repeatedly, slowly speeding up the rhythm as he felt Barry get more accustomed to it.

He stopped sucking and took Barry all the way into his throat, earning an angelic moan from the man. He pulled off of his dick with an audible _pop_ and put a hand by either side of Barry's head, leaning over him to talk.

"I trust you did not bring lube, no?" 

"Mh. No."

"Shame. I would have gladly let you fuck me right here." He lowered himself down to whisper into Barry's ear. "You want to fuck my throat instead? Hm?" He nipped at Barry's earlobe.

"Yes," The response is almost immediate. "God, please."

Hank hummed his satisfaction with the answer and then positioned himself again with his head over Barry's dick. "If I hit floor with my hand you stop." He demanded. Barry nodded, making earnest eye contact that melted Hank's heart a bit.

"I will." He said clearly.

Hank took a breath and then lowered his mouth over Barry again, this time anticipating upwards thrusts into his throat. He thanked God for his lack of a gag reflex as Barry began to speed up the pace of his hips. The sounds were entirely obscene and Hank reveled in it as much as he could while getting his throat driven into.

When it became too much, Hank slapped his hand on the towel beside Barry's hip. The thrusting stopped and he raised his mouth off of Barry's dick, gasping for breath with a sore throat. He replaced his mouth with his hand, knowing that Barry was close enough at that point. He twisted his wrist with each stroke, and the spit that already lined Barry's dick was just what put Barry over the edge.

Hank, having anticipated this, got close and aimed Barry's dick towards his face just in time to feel the hot spurts of his release across his cheek. Barry peaked with a shout, arching his back, making Hank smile. He gave Barry a fixed kiss.

"Can I touch you?" Barry asked against his lips. "Please?"

" _Yes."_ Hank breathed. Barry's heart floundered in his chest as he sat upwards and turned Hank around, so that the smaller man was sat between his legs with his back against his chest. His right arm snaked around and flattened on Hank's tummy, feeling his muscles tense with anticipation.

"Is it okay if I take these off?" He murmured into Hank's ear. Hank nodded immediately. Barry found that some part of himself was pleased that he was the one making Hank speechless for once. After he had been given permission, he hooked his thumb underneath the waistband then tugged softly but unceremoniously. A couple moments later, Hank's briefs were gathered beneath his knees and he was wiggling his legs out of them.

Barry took a moment to admire Hank's dick, already hard and slick with pre-cum for him. 

"You're absolutely gorgeous," He said against Hank's neck, causing the man in front of him to shiver. Barry smiled and then bit down on the flesh above his right clavicle. Hank moaned, and the sound could've been straight from a porno. He sucked at the skin, using more teeth than usual as per Hank's request. His left hand gripped Hank's jaw and chin, with two fingers in his mouth. He released Hank's neck from his mouth and pressed his face into the back of the man's neck.

When he had a satisfiable amount of saliva coating his fingers, he brought his hand down to Hank's dick and began stroking it, all shyness gone. His free hand ran up and down Hank's abdomen, appreciating his built form. He liked how vocal Hank was about his indulgence, not trying to hold back moans and other exclamations of pleasure. He noticed that Hank grew louder when Barry gave extra attention to his head, so he made sure circle his thumb over his slit with just the right amount of pressure before pumping his dick again.

 _"Faster,"_ The word came out of Hank's mouth as a desperate moan, and Barry quickened his strokes. Hank's hips began twitching forward, like he was trying to fuck Barry's fist. Barry bit down again on his neck, this time higher up, and Hank came with a loud cry that Barry savored. Most of his cum had spurted out in front of him but Barry gladly licked up the few spots that had dribbled onto his hand

He held his arms against Hank's chest possessively, peppering kisses all over the back of his neck. Hank's hands loosely gripped his forearms as he panted.

"We lay down now?" Hank suggested, his voice breathy. 

"Mhm," Barry murmured. Hank flipped over as Barry laid down on his back. He slung an arm and leg over Barry when he lied down next to him. Barry smiled tiredly as Hank nuzzled his face into the warmth of his chest.

Tired but euphoric, Barry gently traced the lines of Hank's tattoos. The two of them rested together like this for a while before they became chilly. They reluctantly put their clothes back on.

"Shit!" Hank said. "We never went swimming!"

Barry gestured toward the water. "Water's still there, dumbass." He responded sarcastically.

Hank cupped Barry's cheek in a hand and kissed his forehead. "I am too tired for swimming. We should go home and watch movie."

Barry’s heart swelled with affection as he nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um yes anyways this is my first time writing a fanfic so let me know what I could be doing differently thank you


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fluffy hank fluffy hank fluffy hank

The drive back to the stash house filled with the tension of unspoken words, but Barry was still happy to sit quietly in Hank's company.

"Pull into the driveway. We can find movie to watch together inside." Hank said. Barry nodded and did as he was told, making sure to leave space for anyone who might need to leave or park. He took the key from the car. Hank moved to exit, but Barry grabbed his arm with little force, hardly more than a gesture.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked, scared shitless as he did so. "Like a proper kiss?"

Hank looked absolutely charmed. "That would be nice," He gushed, unable to contain a faint blush from masking his face.

Barry smiled a little self-consciously and tipped Hank's chin slightly upwards between his pointer finger and his thumb. He made a few moments of sweet and light eye contact with the other man. Not wanting to torture himself any longer, he edged forward and brushed their lips together gingerly. 

The kiss was gentle and soothing, lacking the desire they shared earlier. Barry pulled back a bit when he felt Hank smile against his lips. He opened his eyes halfway and admired the beaming face in front of him. 

"What?" He asked when Hank's smile tilted into a smirk.

"Nothing," Hank defended, "It is just... You are so fucking gay!"

"Mh. That's insane." Barry responded, and lazily pressed his lips to Hank's again. His lips were soft and pleasant, and he couldn't get enough of them. 

Hank shifted ever-so-slightly back and nuzzled the tips of their noses together affectionately.

"We go inside now," He instructed. Barry planted one more kiss on his lips before exiting the car.

He locked the car doors and followed Hank into the house. Barry felt jumpy being around people who had arranged for his death very recently, but he reminded himself that him and the Chechens were on good terms now. He was the one who got them this stupid house. Kind of. 

Hank's room was decorated nicely. One wall had several semitransparent windows, and below them was a bed with a polished wooden headboard that had small nightstands and shelves attached on either side. Each nightstand had lamps with eggshell-blue lampshades on them. The shelves were scattered with stuff like a tissue box, small potted succulents, a handgun and an air diffuser.

The bed had a variety of comfortable looking pillows and a striped comforter with lots of yellows and oranges and pinks. Hank untied his hiking boots and set them neatly next to the door before walking to his closet and picking out some more casual clothes. Barry averted his eyes while he changed. When be was done changing, Hank flopped down onto the right side of his bed with a content sigh. He gestured for Barry to join him. Barry removed his shoes and walked over. He sank down next to Hank, his muscles singing with relief at the softness of the mattress.

Hank retrieved a laptop from the bottom shelf nearest to him and opened it. He flicked through some streaming platform, looking for something to watch.

After almost a minute of looking, Hank sighed.

"You're supposed to cuddle me!" He complained with a slight pout.

"I wanted to wait for you to ask!" Barry said defensively, then shuffled forward until his chest was pressed against Hank's back. He let his hand move gently over Hank's side and let it softly rest on his tummy, rubbing soft circles with his thumb. Hank made a quiet, satisfied noise that sent warmth coursing through Barry's chest. 

Hank continued scrolling, looking for something to put on. Every so often Barry would kiss the back of his neck fondly. Hank eventually turned on Clueless, which was surprisingly one of his favorites. Barry found himself unable to keep his eyes open, and dozed off before they got halfway through the movie, arm still wrapped around Hank's middle.

-

When Barry woke up, Hank was turned around to face him in his arms. His face was blissful and his eyes were shut, and Barry realized that he was asleep. His heart swelled warmly and he pressed their foreheads together, pulling Hank slightly closer to himself. Hank murmured inaudibly in his sleep, and Barry pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose.

After a few minutes of relaxing like this, Hank began squirming. Barry loosened his hold on the smaller man, not wanting to constrict him. At one point he twitched, and Barry's affectionate expression was replaced with a concerned one. He moved his hand from Hank's side and placed it lightly on his cheek. 

Hank's eyes fluttered open, and he was visibly distressed. Tears were pooled in his eyes and his expression was one of panic. Barry moved his hand from his face and propped himself up against the headboard, wanting to give him some space. Hank rushed forward and clung to Barry's middle, burying his face into his chest while he clutched his shirt.

Barry returned the embrace cautiously, rubbing circles on Hank's back. A few moments later he noticed Hank trembling. 

"Are you okay?" He croaked, voice stuck in a deep, sleepy tone. Hank nodded, his face still pressed into the fabric of Barry's shirt. This worried Barry. It was unlike Hank to have nothing to say. "Do you wanna talk about it?" He asked as softly as possible.

"Not right now," Hank's voice was muffled by fabric, and his words sent vibrations into Barry's chest where his head laid. "It is over." 

Barry dragged feather-light touches over Hank's shaking shoulders, making Hank shiver. 

"I get nightmares sometimes. Sleep terrors, too." He announced quietly, and leaned down to kiss the top of Hank's head.

Hank's response was stifled and inaudible. He had stopped shaking by then, and Barry stopped trailing his hand over his shoulders, opting to envelop Hank in his arms.

"Thank you for holding me." Hank had rotated his head so his mouth wasn't pressed against Barry's shirt. His voice sounded fatigued in a way that made Barry want to never let go of him.

"Of course." He whispered. They absentmindedly put some tv show on, both of them drained. Eventually Hank shut the laptop and positioned himself to make eye contact with Barry.

"Is okay if I kiss you?" Hank asked. Barry nodded and immediately their lips were connected. Hank sat up and swung a leg over Barry, straddling him. Barry's hands found a place resting on Hank's hips, and Hank tangled his fingers with the hair on the back of his head. 

The kiss quickly became carnal very soon. Biting lips, thrusting tongues together. Hank ground rhythmically down against Barry with the perfect amount of pressure. Barry felt his dick throb as they got more intense. 

Hank disconnected their lips and threw his head back, eyes shut as he continued to rub against Barry, reveling in the friction. Barry took the opportunity to leave another mark on his neck. He chose a spot under Hank's jaw to catch in his mouth, sucking the skin aggressively. Hank groaned at the sensation, and Barry placed a small kiss over the spot where a hickey would soon be visible. 

Hank leaned forward to kiss him again, and Barry brought a hand down to palm Hank's semi-hard dick through his pants, the other one reaching to grope his ass roughly. The man moaned into his mouth.

"Barry," He breathed, pulling back just a bit so that their lips were almost touching.

"Yeah?"

"We cannot do this here. Not now." Hank groaned. He pressed his forehead against Barry's. Barry nodded slightly and removed his hands from Hank's crotch and ass and settled them softly on his sides.

"That's okay," He responded quietly, taking deep breaths to ground himself from the desire.

"I'm so sorry, it's just- Goran. He has it out for people like me. Everyone does. If my family were to find out, I would be dead man." Hank imparted miserably, and Barry felt a piece of his heart break for the man in front of him. He felt his nose scrunch up as tears of empathy formed. 

"I'm sorry," Barry sighed. "I know what that's like." He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Hank's, and held it there affectionately. 

"Is okay. America is better than Chechnya, so I'm not so afraid all the time. Is still scary, though. I am Goran's second-hand man, he could easily put bullet in my head if he knew." Hank whispered. Barry didn't know how to respond.

Instead of scrambling for words, Barry flipped Hank to his side on the mattress and then hugged him from behind. Hank's body eased comfortably into his chest and a soft hand wwas placed over Barry's where it laid on his tummy.

"Is this okay?" Barry asked self-consciously.

"Of course it is. Being held by you is wonderful. Very strong arms, and big hands too. Perfect." Hank informed him softly. Barry's cheeks were tinted pink as he nestled his face against Hank's neck and exhaled contentedly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day that Barry goes with the other dudes while they attempt to take out Cristobal. The mess he has to clean up. Trigger warning for a bit of violent content, it shouldn't be any worse than the show but I figured I'd let you guys know.

Barry had spaced out while Hank was happily worrying over Barry and tending to his wounds, whispering promises of protection from his angered friends. He was sore and scared and trying so fucking hard not to show it. But all he could think of was Taylor and Vaughn. The way their bodies hung upside-down, strung up and tangled in their seatbelts like bloodied, muscular marionettes. 

The gore and brain matter splattered and smeared like a spilled drink, snaking its way down the windows and the heads of the soldiers.

The look on Chris's face as he watched bullets tear through the abdomen of the man standing over Barry.

He fucked up.

"Earth to Barry! Hello!" Hank's sing-song voice pulled Barry from his thoughts.

He was lying down next to Hank in his motel bed. When he had returned, he'd told Fuches he needed space, which wasn't untrue. The events that unfolded earlier were seeping into his mind and he could feel himself spiraling.

"Hi." Barry said, feeling stupid about the response but too burnt out to care. Hank's brow furrowed.

"Are you okay, angel?" He had recently started using that, along with some Russian phrases that Barry could only assume were pet names.

"They're dead." Was all he could muster. Hank smiled sadly and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead.

"I know. But you are not. And for that I am grateful." He offered to the man in front of him.

"Chris keeps calling. He wants to meet with me." Barry stated, only halfway aware of what Hank had said. "He sounded scared."

There was a pause.

"You think he will tell?" Hank asked gently. Barry squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

"I don't know. I fucking hope not. Jesus fuck, this is fucking terrible." He muttered. Hank rubbed his back. Neither of them acknowledged the unspoken conclusion they'd both come to.

Chris was probably going to die.

-

"I think we need to go to the cops, okay?" Chris said, staring with big eyes that were full of fear. Barry looked away. He couldn't meet those eyes as Chris begged and reasoned and fought.

Chris's expression continuously faltered as Barry explained exactly what they were doing out there. What he did for a living. What he was.

"I CANNOT LIVE LIKE THIS, OKAY, WE COULD GO TO JAIL!"

Barry calmly countered all the fearful remarks. Chris didn't back down. 

"These people I work for," Barry declared, "th-they'll go after your family." Chris grew quiet at last. "They'll go after your wife. They'll go after your kid." The man in front of him began twitching nervously, breathing loudly. "They'll kill them. So, I think the best thing for us is to be quiet, and safe."

Chris stilled in a moment of quiet consideration before spouting off another desperate suggestion. 

"Okay, what if I just turn myself in-" Their voices immediately overlapped as Barry argued. They quickly began spitting claims back and forth. Barry went on a spiel about how everyone was linked before Chris broke out screaming again.

"WELL I DON'T FUCKING CARE, BARRY! I KILLED A GUY! OKAY, NOW YOU MIGHT BE COOL WITH THIS SHIT BUT I'M NOT! I GOT A WIFE AND I GOT A KID, OKAY? And she KNEW, she fucking knew something was up when I came home home, she knew it. And then I lied to her and told I was- I was going to the gym! Just now, but when I go back she's gonna know. She's gonna know something is up, okay, and it's gonna come out." Chris exhaled, shaking his head frantically. 

"So that's it," Chris continued, "That's it. That's it okay? I'm going to the cops, and I'm gonna tell 'em everything. And if I- if I gotta do some time, fine. But I'm coming clean."

Barry stared straight ahead and tried to ignore the pang he felt in his chest.

"Why did you say that." He whispered, hardly a breath. It sounded more like a statement than a question. 

"Why did you Facebook me, dude? You're a fucking hitman, and then you fucking Facebooked me-"

"WHY DID YOU SAY THAT?" Barry screamed, squeezing his eyes shut, wishing he was anywhere but there.

A moment of silence passed between them before Barry turned and made eye contact with his friend.

"I told you to get out of the car, man." He said. 

He watched painfully as realization hit Chris. He could see the cogs turning. He could feel him mentally scrambling for any way to make it out of this alive. 

"You know what?" He responded at last, looking up with tears in his eyes, searching for the right words. "It's cool." He backtracked, and Barry knew exactly what was going through his head. "I can keep quiet. I'm cool." 

Barry covered his mouth with his hand as preemptive regret filled his chest.

"And I- I didn't tell my wife, you know, that- that I was going to the gym, right? I told her that I was comin' to see you." The words he said sounded calm enough, but Barry knew that they were a last resort for Chris. The backpedaling solidified the way that this was going to end.

They were in a secluded area, but at that moment a gray car paused for a few moments several yards ahead of them. Barry wished he could sit in that moment forever, knowing that what would happen when they were alone again would wreck him.

"I know you're not gonna do anything crazy, Barry." Chris broke the tense silence as the driver of the other car got out and went around to tend to whatever was strapped to the top of their vehicle. "I know you're a good guy."

Barry couldn't make eye contact. All he could do was leer forward as the car drove off down the dirt road, sealing the fate of the man next to him. 

"So I'm gonna drop you off," Chris started. His final appeal. His voice was breathy with fear. "And I'm gonna keep my fat trap shut." He started the car shakily and placed his hands on the wheel. "And then, you know, I- I promise you, no one will ever know anything- wait WAIT WAI-"

Barry had one hand covering Chris's and the other one holding the gun to his temple before his friend fully registered what was happening.

A deafening pop, a flash of light, and a shower of blood.

Barry's ears were ringing as he mindlessly wiped the gun of his fingerprints with the fabric of his shirt before placing it in Chris's limp right hand. He tried not to look but his eyes flicked up to his friend's head before he could stop himself. 

It was the briefest look, but the glimpse of carnage that he got was more than enough to set him off. 

He turned the car off and got out, walking away with his hands in his pockets. He glanced back only once.

-

The evening had turned into night by the time Barry was on his way back to the motel in an Uber. He vaguely recalled that he had to be somewhere. Acting class. A show. Macbeth. That was it. He didn't care. It was just one line. Anyone could do it. 

Exhaustion battled the adrenaline coursing through him, and he drifted into a dreadful sleep. It was continuously interrupted with repetitive and alarming visions.

The sound of a telephone, the kind greeting of the lady who picked it up. A woman's scream. Images of Chris's wife, collapsed on the kitchen floor, clutching her wailing son and choking out shrieking cries of pain. The sound of a gun.

A military funeral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was , a little hard to write


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry deals with the mental fallout of killing Chris. BIG trigger warning for suicidal ideology and graphic self-harming actions.

Barry returned to the motel quietly. He made his way to his new room without ever looking up from the ground  
  
Everything was too bright, too loud. His head felt like it was about to fucking explode. He hated the feeling with his whole heart. He had killed so many people but this was the worst he'd ever felt after.

 _Of fucking course it feels like shit,_ he thought, disgusted with himself. _Because Chris was fucking innocent._  
  
Hank was gone when he entered his room. Probably at the stash house, trying to keep up appearances. He laid down on the bed and shot Hank a text letting him know he'd returned. No one was around him but he still felt a gross sense of vulnerability.   
  
Killing bad guys was different. This was murder. Just to make sure some fuckin guy stayed hushed. Some guy with a wife and kid. Barry looked at his hands. There were only a few miniscule drops of blood on them. All from a man who had been alive an hour ago. He clenched his fists, knuckles turning white.   
  
His breathing sped up as his brain struggled to process the day's events. He wanted to jump off a building. He wanted to slit his wrists, break his arms, crash a car, drown himself.  
  
He laid down, empty-headed for several long minutes before shuffling to the bathroom.  
  
He leaned over the counter, propping himself up with his hands. His arms ached so damn bad. He looked in the mirror. His blue eyes were surrounded by dark rings of exhaustion and depression. A moment of eye contact with himself put a lump in his throat and tears streaming down his face.   
  
He released a guttural scream and hooked his right arm out, bearing his clenched fist down against the mirror. It cracked but didn't shatter, so he hit it until pieces of glass showered onto the counter in a glaringly reflective storm.  
  
His right hand was overcome with pain. He felt several pieces of glass sting him, embedded in his hand like it was just putty. The pain traveled through his entire hand in pulses that matched his heartbeat. He pressed his back to the wall behind him and sunk to the floor, wailing obscenities meant for no one.  
  
He selected a larger shard of glass from the ground near him. He took no action, just held it in his hand, feeling more and more like God by the second. He stared down at the piece, thoughtfully considering what was about to happen. A couple vertical slits and it was over. What a soothing concept. Just a little bit more pain to end it all.  
  
He'd taken so many lives, and it was almost funny that the last one would be his own. He held the glass idly, contemplating his order of actions.   
  
He thought about writing a note. He couldn't think of anyone to address it to. No one knew him except Hank, and even then, he didn't want to out him by making his letter a piece of evidence to be speculated on.  
  
"Fuck," He groaned weakly. He couldn't do this. It would be selfish.   
  
He squeezed his eyes shut, making fresh tracks down his face in new tears. His shoulders shook violently as he heaved sobs out. All he could think of was the wife and kid. They didn't deserve this. But they were getting it anyways, because of Barry.  
  
_"FUCK!"_ He cried, clenching his fists and feeling the flesh of his right hand slice as the glass slid against it.  
  
_Just one,_ he thought tiredly. _Nothing to kill me, just to hurt. Lose some fuckin blood, I dunno. Pass out maybe._  
  
Semi-satisfied with this conclusion, he brought his right hand, bleeding and shaking, to his left wrist. He screamed as he sunk the most jagged point into his soft skin, about four inches from where his hand melded into his arm.  
  
He dragged it non-precisely for a few inches, his scream stuttering. It was deep and long before he became too weak to continue. He looked at the gash and the speckled white flesh underneath it. It burned so fucking bad but it made him think about anything except Chris. Blood pulsed out. Probably not enough to kill him.  
  
He dropped the glass and lowered both of his hands. He laid them on the floor, palms facing up just like that one painting of Jesus. The thought made him chuckle, his head becoming less and less coherent as the seconds dragged on.  
  
Through his buzzing thoughts he heard the door to his room open. He sighed. Probably a noise complaint, maybe the cops were called. If that were the case, he'd probably just blow his fucking brains out right there.  
  
"Barry?" A voice called for him, strong and reassuring. Hank. Barry felt his heart drop in his chest.  
  
He tried to cry out, let Hank know where he was, but no noise came out. So he waited until the bathroom door was pushed open a few moments later, followed by a muffled gasp and a sharp exhale.  
  
_"Jesus Christ what the fuck!"_ Hank shrieked, taking the entire scene in. His eyes fell upon Barry's left wrist and his eyes widened.   
  
"Barry that's bad," He uttered, accent thick during his state of panic. Barry murmured in agreement, either unable or unwilling to form words. Hank's breath hitched in his throat.  
  
"You need it stitched." Hank declared.   
  
"Mhm." Barry managed.  
  
"You want me to do it or doctor?" Hank asked quietly, looking Barry in the eyes to keep from staring at the bloody gash in his wrist.  
  
"You." Barry responded. He couldn't look Hank in the eyes.

"Wait here." Hank ordered. "I will go get first aids supplies from car." Barry nodded, still staring ahead with empty eyes. Hank left and returned a few minutes later, carrying a very official-looking first aid kit.

"Put pressure on it with this." Hank told him, gently placing a gauze pad in Barry's right hand. Barry brought it to his wrist wound and pressed down, gasping in pain. Hank kneeled down in front of him, a concerned look on his face. He told him what he would do. Barry was only halfway listening. Hank sighed.

He lifted the bloodied gauze from Barry's wrist to check the state of the injury. The bleeding had slowed down, but not fully subsided. He removed Barry's hand from the gauze and replaced it with medical tape so he could tend to his other hand. 

Barry watched as Hank brought his bloodied hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to each fucked up knuckle.

"You are so brave, _vozlyublennyy_. So strong." He continued to pluck pieces of glass from Barry's hand with the care of a professional. He wet a washcloth with cool water and rubbed the affected areas, trying to coax out the pieces he couldn't reach with the tweezers.

After that he cleaned the wounds with a warm washcloth. He dabbed around but not on them with a mild, scentless soap. He wrapped gauze around Barry's knuckles, and wrapped Ace bandages over the gauze. He secured it tightly with tape. 

Sadness filled Hank's eyes when he moved the temporary bandage from Barry's wrist. The bleeding had stopped but the skin was irritated and the wound was deep. He repeated the cleaning process again, gentler this time. His hands were timid as he cleaned the skin around the gash.

"This is not going to feel good, okay? I don't have anesthetic. Let me know if I must stop, okay?" Hank looked at him earnestly, and all Barry could respond with was a weak nod.

Hank sutured the injury with a curved needle that he had just sanitized. Barry hardly flinched, finding himself in an almost dissociative state. Hank's work was neat and clean and done before he knew it. The wrist was wrapped in fresh gauze, bandages and tape. 

"All done," Hank told him. "You did such good job."

"I need to shower." Barry whispered. The first full sentence he'd spoken since he had argued with Chris. The thought made him shudder.

"Can you have bath instead? You lost a lot of blood, and shower might ruin your bandages." Hank suggested lightly.

"Okay."

"You want me here or no?" Hank asked

"Want you here." Barry's response was quiet but immediate. Hank nodded. He got up and looked at the bath.

"You mind if I clean it first? Hotel baths are yucky. Look like they have cooties." Hank asked.

"I don't care."

The man bounded away and returned quickly with an armful of cleaning supplies stolen from a housekeeping cart. Barry watched as he made fast work of sanitizing the entire tub. After he seemed sure it was okay, he plugged the drain and started running warm water. He turned to Barry.

"Arms up." He instructed, tugging the bottom of Barry's shirt upwards. He carefully pulled the shirt over Barry's head. he untied his shoes and took them off with his socks, placing them to the side. Barry grabbed onto Hank's arm for support as he tried to lift himself. He cried out in pain as it strained his wrist. 

Hank put an arm under his shoulder and helped him stand. Barry's posture was slumped and tired.

He helped Barry slide off his pants and underwear, and guided him into the tub where he slowly sat him down, leaning him back against the shower wall. He made sure Barry's arms stayed out of the water. Barry didn't particularly enjoy casual nudity, but he was far too out of it to mind.

"You are doing so good," Hank cooed as he shut off the water. "You relax while I clean the floor." Barry made no movement while Hank went about cleaning up his mess, cursing every once in a while when he would nick his hand on a piece of glass.

Before long the bathroom looked as good as new. Except for the broken mirror. And the trash can overflowing with bloodied paper towels. It was fine apart from that, though. 

After being granted permission, Hank scrubbed Barry's chest and arms lovingly with a warm, clean washcloth. The moment would've been tender under different circumstances

"I am so so sorry for today, my love." Hank murmured softly.

Barry's exhale got caught in his throat and he made a choking noise. Tears welled up and spilled down quickly. He began shaking, causing the water to slosh around in the tub. It was only a few moments until he was fully sobbing.

Hank was on his knees by the tub, and he pulled Barry into his arms to the best of his ability. Barry's face nestled into his stomach as he wailed out his sorrows. His hands clung weakly to his shirt. Hank rubbed his back and held him and kissed the top of his head. He hummed nostalgic tunes from Chechnya to him. Songs Barry would never recognize.

 _"I wanna die, Hank, I wanna fucking die,"_ He blubbered, voice muffled by the fabric of Hank's shirt. _"I can't stop seeing him and his wife and his kid and it's so bad I just want it to go away I hate myself so fucking much,"_ Barry rambled on mindlessly, his voice often being interrupted by his own gasps for air.

"You did what you had to, angel." Hank whispered against the top of Barry's head, unsure if he was even heard. "And I am so sorry that you had to do it."

 _"I just wanna die,"_ Barry keened. _"I just need to die."_ His voice was so weak and he felt weak too. Hank gripped him as tightly as he could without hurting him or physically dragging him out of the bath.

"I know, I know," He comforted. "Shh. Is over, okay? You will not ever have to do that again. You do not need to die. I am right here." He continued murmuring to his weeping friend for several minutes. 

It took a long time but eventually the fit subsided. Barry knew it would be the first of many. He felt Hank gently release him so he could lean down to Barry's level. He didn't meet his eyes, knowing he was red and covered in snot and tears.

"Barry, look at me." Hank tilted his head upwards by his chin. They eye contact Barry made with him was reluctant. "You cannot die. I cannot live with that."

Barry nodded in response. Hank cleaned his face and drained the bath. He wrapped Barry in a towel and helped him to his bed and dressed him in the most comfortable-looking clothes he could find in his bag. He borrowed a gray t-shirt that was way too big for him and slipped out of his shoes and pants. He turned the lamp off as Barry settled in bed, and slipped in next to him.

Barry immediately cozied up to Hank. They lied facing each other in the dark. Barry held onto Hank's borrowed shirt like a lifeline. Hank wrapped his arm around Barry's shoulder, pulling him as close as possible. Their legs intertwined as they drifted off, their breaths evening to match each other's as their bodies stilled.

Barry felt like shit but at least he felt safe here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :(


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank takes care of Barry part 2  
> TW for mentions of self-harm, suicide, homophobic violence

Barry woke up loudly several times that night. He would fling his arms up like he was defending himself. And he would cry out. Sometimes just a whimper, other times a full-on scream. Hank woke with him each time. He would reel him back in by murmuring comforts and holding him and kissing him. 

When he woke for the fourth time, he felt an uncomfortable and innate sense of alertness. He knew he wouldn't be getting any more sleep. He glanced at the bedside clock from where his face was burrowed into Hank's chest. 2:37, the clock read. _Jesus Christ._

"I'm sorry," He breathed. He tried to voice the guilt he felt but couldn't find the words.

"I am happy to be here with you. All I want is you to feel okay." Hank said honestly. Barry hugged him tighter around his middle, and Hank responded by carding his fingers through his hair. After a few minutes, Barry sat up, leaning against the headboard next to Hank. He fumbled for the lamp and turned it on, shedding a dim, yellow light on them. Hank sat up, matching his posture to Barry's

Facing straight ahead, Barry opened his mouth to speak. But he didn't know how to articulate his thoughts. Hank gave him a knowing look. He didn't expect anything from Barry, which the man was unspeakably grateful for. Barry grabbed Hank's hand in his own wrapped one and intertwined their fingers. Hank took the silence as an opportunity.

"Yesterday," He began, "I thought you were dead. Goran said that army men died in failed hit. I thought it was you." His voice sounded close to breaking, like he was focused on keeping it steady.

Barry felt so utterly weighed down by guilt. He had made Hank hurt.

"I was so afraid, Barry," Hank croaked. He took a breath before continuing. "I did not want to be without you." Neither men looked at each other while Hank spoke. "I cannot tell you how fucking relieved I was when I knew you lived. I cried," He stated the last bit matter-of-factly.

"I'm sor-" Barry tried to apologize, but Hank shook his head.

"No. Was not your fault. I did not give a fuck that those other guys died. I was just happy that you were alive. And I know you do not like killing good people. So I am sorry you had to get Chris. But I will not ever feel sad over those men, because I rather them die than you." He choked out. Barry looked over to see him staring forward at the wall in front of them with a forlorn look on his face. The tears running down his cheeks reflected the golden light, almost glowing. 

Barry regarded the man with the most adoration he had ever felt. He wished he could fight his regret and be content with what happened. Just live everything out with Hank, the two of them keeping each other happy and safe and unafraid. But he took an innocent life. A good one. And no matter how perfect Hank was, Barry knew he would never forgive himself for what he had done. Not all the way, at least.

"You don't have to be happy that you did it," Hank blurted out, as though he was reading Barry's thoughts. "But don't take your life over it either." He turned to face Barry, who was still watching him. They made sad, intense eye contact. "You scared me. With the big cut. Thought you were trying to die on me." Barry felt his lip start quivering

"I thought about it," He breathed. Hank nodded understandingly. 

"I've tried it before. In Chechnya," He admitted. Barry could tell he was afraid to say that. So he brought his free hand up to Hank's face and cupped his jaw. He stared at each of Hank's features, committing all of them to memory. He tried to rub his Hank's cheek with his thumb, but the movement made his wrist burn. He stilled, simply holding Hank's face affectionately. He felt his heart swell, almost burst with emotion.

"Chechnya sounds like shit." He grunted. Hank chuckled and his mouth curved upwards.

"It is a beautiful place, in its own way." He responded. "Weather is better here, but I miss the mountains and the rivers sometimes." Barry nodded, waiting for Hank to continue. "I do not miss the people. They would take gay men and put them in prison for nothing. Torture them there. They called it a _purge_." He spat the last word out bitterly.

Barry frowned. He'd never dealt with much homophobia. He was always a naturally private person, so most of the people he was out to were also part of the community.

"You know, they actually got me once. I was very careful but they got me anyways." Barry noticed Hank's grip on his bandaged hand tighten. It stung, but he made no attempt to move. Hank's eyes darkened intensely as he continued. "It was my father who sold me out. My fucking _father_. Found out it was not just friend I was bringing over. So he watched them take me away."

Barry's eyes pricked with tears. He didn't know what to say.

"They hurt me there," Hank went on. He looked past Barry's face, caught in memories. Barry could understand that. "Waterboarded me and beat me. I thought I would die but they let me go. Thought they fixed me." His voice was so full of righteous hatred. Barry would've gladly tracked down Hank's abusers and shoot them point-blank in their dicks if he knew their identities.

"How long ago was that?" Barry asked softly.

"Fifteen years ago or so. I laid low after that, but I made it personal goal to come here. I always read how California was so accepting and kind." His eyes held a wistful look "I almost killed myself before I made it here. Slit my wrists just like you. But here I am."

"I'm glad you lived." Barry's statement was simple but honest. Hank smiled a little.

"Me too. I'm glad to be here with you." A comfortable silence fell upon them. They spent minutes like this, each man just enjoying the presence of the other.

Hank sighed, breaking the silence and making eye contact with Barry again. "I am sorry to burden you with that, but-"

"Hey, no no no, you're not- you're not a burden. I'm glad you told me." Barry interrupted him quickly. "Don't ever feel bad for talking about shit." He pressed a quick kiss to Hank's lips, and pulled away to look him in the eyes. Hank's lopsided smile was irresistible. He leaned in and kissed him again. The second kiss was longer and more sincere, but it was gentle and indicated no advancement. Before he could stop himself, he was scattering little kisses all over Hank's face. The man was giggling when Barry finally pulled away.

"We have both done some fucked up shit, huh?" Hank commented in good humor. Barry burst out laughing. He removed his hand from Hank's and slung his arm around the shorter man's shoulder. Hank rested his head contentedly near the crook of Barry's neck.

"Yeah, we have," He responded at last. "But it's okay." It wasn't. He knew it wasn't. But he was perfectly fine lying to himself just for a little bit. Just long enough to enjoy a domestic moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading, it feels really crazy that people have actually bothered to do that


	8. Chapter 8

The next day was spent lazily lounging around the room. Hank flicked through channels on the television with Barry sprawled out next to him. Barry jumped when a phone rang. Hank grabbed his own from the bedside table and checked the caller ID. Goran.

"Jesus fuck this guy is so annoying," He huffed, stressing the last word. He rolled his eyed and let it go to voicemail, something he wouldn't usually do.

"Won't you, like, get in trouble for that or something?" Barry asked. Hank shrugged.

"He does not know where I am," He pointed out. "He keeps complaining of war between us and Bolivians, but it is not my concern right now. I am with you." 

Barry sat up beside him and leaned in to kiss him. It was soft and sweet. Hank smiled against his lips. Barry pulled away.

"What?" He asked.

"Is nothing. I am just very happy to be with you." Hank murmured. Barry grinned.

"Mh. Me too." He said, and leaned in for another kiss. He grunted when Hank swiped his tongue along his bottom lip. He opened his mouth and made content noises as their tongues pressed against each other.

"Can I get on you?" Hank asked, his voice breathy. Barry nodded without hesitation. Hank straddled him immediately, a knee on either side of his hips. Barry ran his hands up and down Hank's sides underneath his shirt, careful not to aggravate his injuries. He let his hands rest on Hank's ass over his boxers, wishing more than anything that he could squeeze it. He mentally cursed himself for his self-destructive actions.

Hank's mouth detached from Barry's and made its way to his throat, kissing his skin like it was something to be worshipped. He bit down lightly on Barry's favorite spot, just below the curve of his jaw. Barry let out a whine. He wanted more. He could already feel the blood rushing to his dick, and he used all of his self-control to keep from bucking upwards.

"Hank," He groaned quietly. Hank stopped biting and sucking his neck and perked up, making innocent eye contact from where he sat, perched over Barry's lap. Barry's breath was shaky. "I wanna fuck you." Barry finally said. Hank's mouth twitched up in a smirk.

"Yeah?" He goaded. "You wanna fuck me, hm?" Barry tugged him by the collar of his shirt to kiss him again, being sure to bite Hank's bottom lip. Hank groaned approvingly and rotated his hips down onto Barry's, grinding against him just once. A moan came out of Barry's mouth, vibrating against Hank's lips.

"Fuck you," Barry muttered, without any sting to the words. "Fuckin' tease." Hank raised an eyebrow and smiled wickedly.

"You think I am being tease right now?" He prompted. Barry rolled his eyes. Hank leaned down, his mouth almost touching Barry's ear. "I can be so much more of a fucking tease than this." He whispered, and bit down on Barry's earlobe gently. Barry whimpered.

Hank, satisfied with the reaction he got, sat back and smiled cockily. Barry glared at him and leaned forward to bite down on his neck. Hank let out an absurdly lewd moan. Barry ignored the stinging in his wrist and hand as he flipped Hank onto his back. He climbed over Hank's body, enjoying the sight hungrily. 

He kissed the man below him roughly. It was reciprocated with equal force. Hank paused for a moment to squirm out of his shirt. Barry took the opportunity to drag his lips over Hank's muscular torso, reveling in the feeling of the tense anticipation in Hank's pec as he bit down on his chest.

Barry made his way down Hank's stomach, pointedly kissing and nipping his skin until he reached the waistband of Hank's underwear. He watched Hank writhe as he tried to keep his excitement at bay.

"Can I suck you off?" Barry asked, surprising himself with the crude verbiage. He made eye contact with Hank from above his crotch. Hank nodded.

Barry fondled Hank's dick through the underwear. Annoyed with the texture of his knuckle bandages, he tore them off. He didn't remove the ones covering his wrist, but his right hand was at least more mobile now.

He pulled Hank's boxers down slowly. He felt his own cock twitch at the sight of his dick, already hard and leaking. He let a string of spit travel from his mouth to his right palm, and he started stroking Hank delicately. After a few moments he lowered his head onto Hank's head.

He knew his gag reflex wasn't the best, so instead of deepthroating, he hollowed out his cheeks and just sucked, pumping his mouth up and down over the top half of Hank's dick while his hand massaged the rest of the shaft.

After a couple minutes of this he focused on the the head, wanting so badly to just taste Hank.

"Barry," Hank managed. "Stop it. I am going to cum. I don't want to cum before you fuck me." Barry obediently removed his mouth from Hank's dick. His stomach twisted delightfully at the mention of fucking Hank. 

"You get on your back now," Hank instructed him. His voice was almost a growl.

"Lube," Barry choked out. "It's in my bag. And condoms." Hank spent little time digging through Barry's toiletries before finding what he was looking for. Barry got on his back like he was told. He felt weirdly nervous. He never felt nervous about sex. 

Hank tossed the bottle of lube and the packet containing the condom onto the bedside table so he could kiss Barry some more. The connection was passionate, and despite the sexual mood, it warmed Barry's heart.

Hank straddled him comfortably like he did before. He took his time getting Barry out of his clothes, admiring each part of his body. 

"Can I- can I prep you?" Barry asked meekly. Hank smirked.

"Of course you can," He responded happily. Barry reached for the bottle and popped it open. He spread a good amount of lube onto three fingers of his right hand.

"Can I-"

"Yes." Hank blurted. "Please."

Barry wasted no time. He found Hank's ring of muscle and circled it lightly with a wet finger. He pressed his pointer in, watching Hank's reaction carefully. He pumped it in and out slowly until Hank asked him for another. He slipped his middle finger in and spread his two digits slightly apart, stretching the hole open. He watched Hank's eyes roll back in pleasure.

"One more," Hank requested quietly. Barry quickly eased a third finger in, thrusting slowly, making Hank beg.

" _Fuck_ , Barry, I'm ready." He moaned out. Barry shivered. Hank saved him the trouble of applying the condom and lube to his dick, doing so very quickly. Barry removed his fingers and allowed Hank to line his dick up with his entrance. He lowered himself down slowly, and as agonizing as Barry found it, the sight was incomparable.

He gasped as Hank continued, filling himself up steadily. The tight, warm feeling around him was so nice. When Hank bottomed out, he remained still for a moment. Barry didn't know what to do. But a second later, he was grinding his hips, and Barry cried out involuntarily. After he'd grown used to the filled feeling, Hank began to slide up and down.

He started slow, but sped up over time, and soon he was essentially bouncing on Barry's dick.

Both of them were crying out in pleasure. Barry loved the way Hank squeezed around him every time he hit his spot.

"Fuck, you're so big," Hank breathed, continuing to ride the man beneath him. "You fill me up so perfectly." Barry reveled mindlessly in the praise.

"Can you flip over?" Barry asked, no longer able to feel shy. Hank nodded and gave a questioning look. "Hands and knees." Barry told him, and Hank's eyes lit up delightedly at the demand. He slid up and off of Barry, and moved to do as he was told.

Barry followed the movement and positioned himself on his knees behind the man, his dick just barely prodding the entrance. 

"Ready?" He asked softly. Hank nodded impatiently. Barry pushed back into him, happy to have the warm sensation back. He started thrusting almost immediately, and Hank let out a satisfied moan. Barry paced his hips quickly, almost unable to control the thrusts. 

"Can you- _Fuck_ , Barry, can you choke me?" Hank begged. Barry took a moment to process the request. 

"Yeah, okay. Yeah," He grunted.

Barry reached forward with his right hand and wrapped it around Hank's throat. He made sure to leave his windpipe without pressure, just pressing down on the sides of Hank's throat. He slowed his thrusting as he did this, wanting to make sure Hank was comfortable.

" _Harder_ ," Hank whimpered, bringing a hand up over Barry's to press it more tightly to his throat. As Hank adjusted to the feeling, Barry picked up his pace again. His hips were bucking forward strongly, at a perfectly timed pace. Barry felt the tension build up as he continued pushing into Hank. Hank's neck was arched back, his throat in Barry's hand.

 _"I'm gonna cum,"_ Barry managed to say.

"Keep going," Hank demanded. "I am close, just keep going-" he interrupted himself as Barry hit his spot from the perfect angle, letting out a shouting moan. Barry repeated the movement, fucking into him roughly until Hank couldn't hold back anymore, releasing onto the sheets with a scream that shot jolts of need into Barry's stomach. He fucked Hank through his orgasm, hips moving quickly and desperately. Barry's climax followed a few moments later when it all became too much, and he came with a loud moan, filling the condom.

He slipped out of Hank, who then collapsed and turned around, lying on his back and panting.Barry took the condom off and tied the end, tossing it unceremoniously into a trash can near the bed. He wiped the remnants of his jizz off his dick with a tissue that also went into the trash. 

Hank looked spent, so he just pulled off the sheet with the mess on it, leaving the one that tightly covered the bed. He scrunched the sheet up and tossed it in a corner, just wanting to get back in bed. Once he felt like he'd done enough, he climbed into the bed next to Hank, whose breathing had slowed.

He felt blissful and drowsy, and from the looks of it, so did Hank. Barry pulled the comforter over them. Hank scooted closer, slinging an arm lazily around Barry's middle. Barry kissed Hank's lips softly before letting his head fall onto the pillow.

He closed his eyes, enjoying the presence of Hank. 

" _Ya lyublyu tebya,_ " Hank murmured softly. Barry didn't know what it meant but Hank said it with fondness, and he felt a surge of affection for the man. He pulled him as close as he could, hugging him to his chest. Hank's hold on Barry's middle tightened a bit.

Tears pricked lightly at his eyes as he rubbed soft circles with his thumb in between Hank's shoulder blades.

"Thank you for being with me," He whispered, his voice breaking slightly.

"Of course, my love." Hank sighed quietly. "You make me happy."

Barry smiled weakly.

"Me too. I mean. You make me happy too." He felt his heart leap as he said the next sentence, "I think I um- I think I love you."

He felt Hank smile into his chest, and he almost melted in relief. 

"I love you," Hank hummed quietly against his skin, sending vibrations through Barry's chest with his voice. Barry pressed a kiss to the top of Hank's head. His heart was beating fast, and he was sure Hank knew that, considering his face was nuzzled into Barry's chest. 

"I love you." Barry repeated. His voice was more confident this time, and he felt happy and safe as he dozed off with Hank in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really liked writing this and I'm definitely looking forward to making more works in the future :)


End file.
